


Cherry Wine

by kristhaswaggerdaddy



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Platonic Cuddling, was supposed to be mc comforting jumin but somehow things reversed lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristhaswaggerdaddy/pseuds/kristhaswaggerdaddy
Summary: Jumin clears up MC's doubts





	

**Author's Note:**

> lol wat dis

Maybe it was the wine.

Or maybe she was starting to pick up things on Jumin after all these months. Like the way he’d figured out a way to get up in bed without waking her. The way he brewed coffee with the machine like a professional barista. The way he smiled shyly, sweetly at her in the most unexpected of situations.

Truth be told, she’d yet to know all of him, just as he’d yet to know all of her. But there was something else she’d also picked up on, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it.

Jumin sipped at his wine as they sat at the couch together. They’d cuddled up together under a blanket (pinstriped, of course) to watch television together, something Jumin claimed to be a waste of time, but she knew he was warming up to it.

Perhaps it was because he finally had some company in his large apartment other than Elizabeth 3rd to do the most inconsequential of things. And in doing this, she discovered Jumin surprisingly enjoyed melodramatic dramas.

“It’s getting late,” Jumin remarked, “are you tired?” he asked gently.

She shook her head once, leaning on Jumin’s shoulder. She felt for his hand under the blanket, curling their fingers together.

“No, not really,” she answered, “unless you’re coming to bed with me?” She looked up at him hopefully. Nights like these were rare after all; Jumin always came home late from the office and only called it a day after working further into the early hours of the morning. She could never comprehend how Jumin was able to function on less than four hours of sleep every day.

Jumin pressed his lips to her hair. “Unfortunately… there’s still some things I need to sort out after this,” he said, remorse in his voice.

“Oh,” she sat up guiltily. “Then we should stop watching TV for now. You should finish up whatever you have to do, Jumin, and then we can…” she shrugged. The night was still young; she was sure they could figure out something to do by then. Maybe they could read and drink more wine till they fell asleep together…

“It’s alright,” Jumin reassured her, squeezing her fingers.

“I can spare an hour or two before I’ll put you to bed.” She laughed, settling back into the leather couch. She supposed she couldn’t say no if Jumin was going to insist on tucking her into bed like a child.

“Okay then. As long as you like what we’re watching anyway. Otherwise I think we could put those hours to better use,” she smiled. “I like doing anything with you,” Jumin looked at her.

Her cheeks were warm when she turned away from Jumin’s heavy gaze. Reruns of an old drama was playing on TV, and though she wasn’t really watching it, it was nice to just sit and pretend that she was. Almost nothing with Jumin ever felt this close to normal. He could make her breathless with the simplest of actions sometimes, and it was almost embarrassing to be so awestruck by him, even though they’ve been living together for around two years.

Elizabeth 3rd jumped up on the couch silently, curling on the blanket. She reached out a hand to stroke the cat’s soft fur; there was nothing more she needed tonight.

She was just about to drift off in her own thoughts, feeling cocooned in the warmth radiating from Jumin’s body when he suddenly spoke in a low voice, “I think Rika used to enjoy this show.”

She stiffened. Then she relaxed her body forcefully, trying not to react to what Jumin was saying. Elizabeth 3rd already had her blue eyes shut, and she continued to stroke her fur so as not to wake her.

“It’s a nice show,” she said vaguely.

“It is, isn’t it?” Jumin said, seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil. “Rika always had good taste in most things.”

She took her hand away from Jumin’s, pretending to lean off to the other side to pick up her half-empty glass of wine. She hated the way she was feeling, but she couldn’t bear to touch Jumin, let alone look at him when he was talking about Rika.

It was stupid to be this way, absolutely childish. And it was the one thing she hated about Jumin.

The cherry wine tasted tart, sharp in the back of her throat as she swallowed all of it. Now that Jumin mentioned her, everything that she didn’t want to know about Rika came at her like a blast of cold air. Rika loved cherry wine. Rika loved cats. Rika loved pastel colours. Rika loved spring. Rika loved planning elaborate parties.

Rika was somehow still in Jumin’s life, a third party in their marriage even though she had already passed away. She tightened her grip on her glass of wine.

“I think she liked this show for the—”

She shifted uncomfortably under the blanket, moving away from Jumin by a few inches even though it would wake Elizabeth 3rd. Just as she predicted, the feline opened her eyes, meowing her displeasure at being so rudely awakened.

Elizabeth 3rd jumped away from the couch, probably to sleep in peace on her numerous cushions all over the penthouse. She wished it was that easy for her to leave the conversation whenever Jumin brought Rika up. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel this resentment against this woman that she would never meet and could never hope to compete with.

Her head snapped up when she heard Jumin call her name. Had he been talking? She could hardly hear anything over her loud, uneasy thoughts in her head.

Jumin looked worried when she risked a glance at his face. She wanted to smooth out the lines on his face, soothe him of his anxieties after his long days, but _this_. This was something she didn’t know if she could ever get over with. How was she supposed to know if she deserved Jumin, if Jumin even really wanted her when Rika was still on his mind even though they were married now?

“Am I boring you?” Jumin asked.

She tried to smile at him. “No, no. I just… I just remembered that I think I have some e-mails to reply for the next RFA party. I-I should get those done—”

“Are you sure?” Jumin’s frown deepened further, “you just mentioned over dinner that you’d got all your e-mails done today…”

Of course, Jumin would remember everything she thought he wouldn’t. She fumbled for an excuse, the need to get away from him overwhelming her. Perhaps it was unwise of her to have drunk so much wine tonight; Jumin had always been better at keeping a level head than her after an entire evening of sipping on wine. 

“I know,” she said miserably.

Jumin’s hand reached out to touch her. She flinched, and Jumin stopped. He dropped his hand, then placed it on his lap like he thought she was going to run away.

“I’m confused,” he said in a stiff voice, the one he reserved to use when he was discussing tricky business details. “If I have said something to offend you or bore you, my love, then I wish to apologize.”

She chewed her lip between her teeth, putting the wine glass down on the table by the couch. It isn’t the right time to talk about this, she thought. And maybe there would never be a right time, but it wasn’t to fair to Jumin if she was acting like this.

“You didn’t, Jumin, I’m the one who should be sorry,” she mumbled. She could feel heat rising to her head and she couldn’t tell if it was the wine or emotions getting to her, or a terrible combination of both.

“I see,” Jumin replied stiffly, and she could tell he was frustrated because she wasn’t saying anything to him. They both had sworn on their wedding day to share all their secrets between them but this was one she didn’t think she could ever bring herself to tell him. How could she, when Rika was the closest thing Jumin had to his first love?

It would be uncouth to do that to him, after everything he’d done to provide her a more than comfortable life for the rest of their years together. Sometimes she felt like she was nothing more than a slightly better version of Elizabeth 3rd, nothing more than the other woman in his life; to be there for him whenever he came home, but never to be his true love.

“I think I’m tired now,” she finally said to him, still not quite meeting him eye to eye.

“Alright,” he said. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but she was already up and walking to the bedroom, clutching the blanket to herself.

She could hear him following after her shortly after, but she hoped it wasn’t because he really did have something to say. She kept her pace brisk, unwilling to talk at this point, at least not till morning when her head was clearer and she could be more objective about things.

Then again, Jumin had always been a determined man and was much taller than her, his strides catching up to her quickly before she could lock herself in the bathroom under the pretence of getting ready for bed. He caught her arm for a moment, then just as abruptly released his grip like she was toxic to the touch.

She felt her silly, silly tears bubbling up as she wondered if he would recoil away from her like that if Rika was in her place. Probably not. Rika was perfect in every way, and Jumin was nothing if not a perfectionist himself.

Jumin whispered her name, the confusion in his voice pricking at her like a dozen needles. “Why are you being like this?” he asked softly, almost like he was afraid to break the silence.

“I don’t understand, love. Something must be wrong, but I… I don’t know why, and it’s uncomfortable not knowing something about you.”

“Nothing is wrong, Jumin,” she said, voice shaky, “you should finish up your work. Don’t sleep too late, okay? It isn’t good for your health.” She drew the blanket closer, trying to hide from Jumin’s gaze.

“Even if I finish all my work now, I don’t think I’d be able to sleep when I know you’re like this,” Jumin replied, taking a step closer. She willed herself not to step back, lowering her eyes to the floor. Slowly, Jumin’s hand came into view and he tipped her chin upwards, his grey eyes clouded with despondency. She felt like she was on fire.

“Just tell me, love. My father once said that we shouldn’t go to bed angry at each other, and I… I don’t want to lose you. Just tell me so I know you’re not slipping between my fingers the way—”

“The way Rika did?” she finished for him. She hated this, hated that she knew when he would say it—

He looked surprised. “…Yes. The way she did, when she died.”

She never knew she could feel this empty, this full all at the same time. All the energy in her body seemed to leave her, but there was still frustration and jealousy building inside, along other emotions better left unnamed.

“Jumin,” she said, like it didn’t take almost all of her willpower to say his name, to stand before him.

“Yes,” he breathed. He gripped his hands into fists, and she knew he was holding back his emotions too. She held her tears in as best as she could.

“How much do you love me, Jumin?” she asked. She never thought she would be the type of girl to ask a man this question. She always thought she would know her worth, that she would be secure enough in a relationship. But this was Jumin, and he wasn’t just any man. He had more emotional baggage than anyone she’d ever met, more to him than what met the public eye, and God help her because she loved him more than she loved herself.

“What?” Jumin took a step back. There was no going back now, not when she just delivered a blow to Jumin’s pride. If there was one thing he hated, it was being questioned. But he was the one who wanted to know, and now she needed to know too or else they’d never move past this, ever.

“I want to know how much you love me, Jumin. How much you love me over… over _her_.” Everything was starting to feel like an outer body experience.

“Her?” he repeated in a pained voice. “There’s no one else but you.”

“Yes, there is,” she looked up at him, unable to hide her tears. “There’s me who’s right in front of you, and then there’s— there’s _Rika_ , your dead beloved—” she spat, then choked back a sob. It felt hard to breathe, hard to even stand still, and she dropped to her knees, trying to clear the dizziness in her head.

Somewhere in the haziness, she thought she heard Jumin call her name. She placed a hand on the ground to steady herself, feeling her body sway. She felt close to passing out all of a sudden, and realized that it really _was_ a bad idea to drink so much in one evening.

 _The things I do to fit into Jumin’s life_ , she thought sadly. All this, and she wasn’t even the only woman in his heart.

“Are you feeling sick? You must’ve drank too much just now,” Jumin said, touching her forehead. He fretted over her anxiously, words buzzing in her head like white noise.

“Will you let me carry you to bed?” he asked, hands already by her sides, ready to pick her up.

“No,” she answered stubbornly, eyes closed. She looked small to Jumin, the blanket pooled around her delicate, swaying frame. Jumin was itching to get his phone just in case she really _was_ sick, but he couldn’t bear to leave her alone like this.

“Then what can I do for you, love? You should rest, you’ve been drinking more than you can handle…”

“It’s nice that you worry for me,” she smiled bitterly, eyes sliding open a fraction. “Almost as nice as the way you let me stay here.” He was beautiful even through her tears and blurry vision.

“What are you talking about, love? You’re my wife, where else would I allow you to stay?” he replied distractedly. He was confused, and she felt sad now, sad that she’d put them into this kind of position.

“If I wasn’t your wife then you probably would’ve married Rika, wouldn’t you?” she asked, hiccupping mid-sentence. He frowned again, not comprehending where all of this was coming from.

“She had feelings for V long before I ever realized what I felt for her,” Jumin answered carefully.

“But if V wasn’t in the picture,” she insisted, “if I wasn’t in the picture, if I never joined the RFA in the first place, you would’ve married her, wouldn’t you? Y-You love her, Jumin, more than you will ever love me, and I can never be her, but some days I wish I was because then maybe I’d be able to meet all your expectations—”

“I never wanted you to be her,” Jumin said, horrified.

“She was… cold where you tried harder to understand me. She gave V all her attention when all I wanted was for her to look at me.”

“So you settled for me,” she said, more tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled, wiping her nose with her hand shakily. “It’s probably why you wanted us to get married right away. Isn’t it? I’m just an excuse to get your father off your back, to get the paparazzi and everyone else off your trail,” she shook as every word poured out of her, trembling as she cried because she wanted Jumin to be in love with her the way he clearly was with Rika.

She had thought she could change him for the better, help him heal his old wounds but now she knew that she wasn’t cut out for it. Jumin deserved someone stronger, someone who was more accepting.

When she couldn’t speak anymore and her tears overwhelmed her, she pressed her hands to her eyes, sitting in hushed shame. Jumin still didn’t touch her, keeping a distance between them that she wanted to close. She wished that he would hold her, dry her tears like he loved her.

“I don’t want you to be Rika,” Jumin finally said quietly. She felt so worn out from crying, just wished she could sleep all this away.

“Did you hear what I said, love?” he pleaded, “She wasn’t what I thought she was. And I didn’t marry you for the reasons you think I did.”

She sniffled back at him. Her face was slightly puffy now, cheeks blotchy and shoulders still slumped beneath the blanket; Jumin thought this was one of her most beautiful moments, and that he was lucky to have her, even with all her sadness and tears.

“I married you because I wanted you, so much so I’m sure it’s a sin to be this greedy. I married you because I wanted us to belong to one another and to no one else. I wanted you to see only me. I never,” he paused, looking for the right words, “I never wanted or needed Rika the way I do with you.

She didn’t understand me, and in hindsight, I see now that it would’ve been an unfulfilling arrangement for both of us if I had forced my hand.”

Jumin cautiously caressed her face, fingers coming away with wet tears. He was upset with himself that he’d allowed things to get so out of hand. He had sworn and taken wedding vows to keep a situation like this from ever happening, and yet, he had failed her.

“You are not Rika,” Jumin said firmly, “you are mine. You are my last love, and the only one there will ever be. What I felt for Rika then,” he brought her hand to his chest, “is nothing compared to what I feel for you now.”

“But you talk about her still,” she blubbered, unsure if Jumin was just reassuring her or if he was telling the truth. She could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, steady and strong, but maybe she was only hearing what she needed to hear from Jumin.

“…I do,” Jumin admitted slowly. It dawned on him that he mentioned Rika a little more often than he should; little snippets, half-thoughts here and there.

He watched her frame continue to tremble before him, and suddenly wished that he was more sensitive to her emotions. Maybe he left her alone too much during the day; there must’ve been signs that he never caught on. He knew, of all people, what it was like to drown in his own thoughts of misery.

She had been there for him in his lowest times… This time, he was going to be there for her.

“I’ve been foolish, my love. I haven’t been paying enough attention to you, and all I’ve ever asked is to give all of you to me. If you let me,” he wiped away a fresh tear from her eye, “I’ll take care of you.”

It hurt to look at him but she did anyway, because he sounded so true, so frank that it was hard not to believe him.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, unsure of what else to say. He smiled, laughing a little.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my love.” He picked her up then, cradling her in his arms, blanket and all. She held onto him tightly, crushing herself to his chest. His scent alone made her feel that much safer, like things would be alright.

When he placed her on the bed, she was unwilling to let him go. “Don’t leave,” she whispered into the crook of his neck.

He didn’t answer, just climbed into bed right after her, piling more blankets around them. It was starting to get cold outside so Jumin hugged her close, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

As she fell asleep in his arms, chest rising and falling at a steady pace, Jumin decided that he would call Jaehee in the morning and tell her to cancel all his meetings tomorrow.

There were promises to keep to his wife, things to do to make her happy again. She needed to know just how much he loved and appreciated her, and that she was not a cheap replacement for anyone.

The smell of cherry wine lingered in the air.  


End file.
